The Obsession
by lianpe
Summary: AU/all human - Clary is an unpopular high school student, constantly picked on by the unceasingly mean Lightwood squad. So what does it mean when hot, sexy Jace Herondale starts taking an interest in her? Rated M for later chapters.
1. chapter 1

The Obsession

NOTE- I DO NOT OWN THE MAGIC THAT IS THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS SERIES. I JUST BORROW CASSANDRA CLARE'S CHARACTERS, IN THE HOPES SHE DOES NOT MIND, AND MAKE THEM ENACT WEIRD DRAMAS IN MY HEAD. OK? OK.

Introduction (This might be a tad long; you can skip over it if you wish, but it might clarify some doubts):

In this fic, there are several major changes to the story that I'll outline here (If you don't want to read 'em, you can skip ahead. My reasons for including them are to clear up any discrepancies you will find in the plot line.):

Jocelyn drives a Jeep - not Luke's truck. She is an illustrator, and, therefore, earns an acceptable salary.

Kaelie, here, is a relative of the Lightwoods (seeing as how Jace isn't actually related in any way to the Lightwoods, it's perfectly ok for him to be dating her). She is pretty OC, loosely based on a girl I was unfortunate enough to sit next to at class.

Clary is unpopular, friendless (except for Simon), has terrible fashion sense and is continuously bullied by the Lightwoods. However, true to her character in the books, she's a bit of a rebel, as you will no doubt find out. I've made her witty (which wasn't a factor in the books), because I believe Clary was a multifaceted character, not the loose cannon she sometimes appears as in the books (meaning no disrespect to Queen Cassandra Clare). It is my personal belief, and I might be wrong, that temper and sharp wits go hand in hand.

In this fic, Max is musical and older than he is in the books. I have included this for reasons of plot management, and I hope you don't take offence at my doing so.

Magnus is basically the male Stella McCartney (his dad is in a famous band) and his fashion label is Bane.

Jocelyn has told Clary that her father left before she was born. This, again, is for reasons of plot management.

Luke is an author, and the CEO of Lupus Comics (the company for which Jocelyn does illustrations).

Right. If you've made it through all that waffle, thank you for being patient. The good stuff will follow...

 **Chapter One**

Clary doodled absently on the strap of her backpack. She was waiting for her mother to pick her up from school (ugh, how she hated Jocelyn babying her) and take her to the art store.

Unoriginal as its name was, ArtsCrafts was, perhaps, Clary's favourite place in the world. In its sanctuary, surrounded by familiar smells of chalk and paint, Clary could forget that she was a short, unpopular freshman. She could forget how much she hated rich, snobbish Isabelle Lightwood and sexy, confident Kaelie Whitewillow, who were unceasingly mean.

"Clary! Hey - Clary!"

"Simon?" Clary tucked her sharpie away. Simon Lewis was her best friend (which did not exactly help her in the popularity department), and Idris Academy's resident funny-guy. He wasn't as witty as Jace Herondale (but then Jace Herondale wouldn't ever run around with a papier-mache hammer screaming "I've got your hammer, Thor - watcha gonna do?"), yet he managed to be as humorous as it is possible to be without having to resort to one's wits.

"Clary, I've got...a problem." Simon readjusted his glasses, which was something he had a tendency to do if he was nervous. "You see, the band needs a...new sound. Power chords and electric guitars are out. I'll have to retire my Strat to greener pastures." He continued to fidget. "And borrow an acoustic. Or buy one. I think I've got some cash saved up. Nothing fancy - there's a very reasonable Takamine I've got my eye on. Or I could get a Yamaha." He was rambling, as he always did when he was upset.

Clary frowned. Simon's band changed their 'sound' approximately five times a month, but they never did manage to sound any different to her. "Don't worry, Si," she soothed, "it'll blow over. You're the best guitarist they've got, anyway. You're - you're Dave Mustaine. Kirk Hammett. Uh...that guy from Led Zeppelin you like."

Simon gave her a hard look. "Jimmy Page. Except I can't be. Even if I could, that is. Because we need to - to Joni Mitchell it. To Bob Dylan it. You know what I mean?"

Clary was about to reply when something caught her eye. A tall something, headed her way at considerable speed, like a bullet streaking from the barrel of a gun.

Simon, noticing her horrified gaze, turned. "Oh...oh, dear…" he murmured.

Jocelyn, her red hair trailing fire, bore down on them, anger blazing in her eyes. "Clarissa Fray, may I ask you why I received a call about you from Headmaster Starkweather?"

Clary's gaze found the floor and she felt her face heat up (how she hated being an easy blusher). "It's...nothing. Really."

"Nothing?" Jocelyn spat, fuming. "Pouring oil on Isabelle Lightwood's hair is not nothing. I'm ashamed of you, Clary. Really, I am."

Seeing that his tomato-toned friend wasn't about to reply anytime soon, Simon obliged, "It actually looks like Clary did her a favour, Mrs. Fray. Izzy loves her hair and oil is...good for your hair." Under Jocelyn's withering gaze, he stepped back a few paces.

"I didn't ask you, Simon. I asked Clary. Who is now grounded. Who is not going to Artsamp;Crafts today."

Uh oh, Clary thought, short sentences - mom must be really mad.

"Say goodbye, Clary. It's time to get going." Looking every bit the irate parent she was, Jocelyn stomped over to her Jeep, (which was parked close enough for her to glare at her daughter through the windscreen).

"Umm, I'm sorry for Mom. See you tomorrow, then? I hope you sort things out with the band." Talking hurriedly (lest Jocelyn stomp back out of her Jeep and scream at her again) Clary hugged Simon goodbye.

"Yeah, you worry about not being boiled in oil, ok?" For once, Simon was glad his own mother was so distracted. Busy as she was with her job, she didn't have time to nag him about his homework or his late nights or his detentions.

In the Jeep, Clary put her seat belt on, though she wasn't sure how a seat belt would protect her from the rocky journey ahead.

"So," she began, in what she hoped was an engaging tone of voice, "you're really mad, aren't you?"

Jocelyn's mouth tightened. "Clary, you can't go through life like this. Constantly acting like a child...it's got to stop. I've had a talk with Maryse, and she thinks - well, she and I think - that it would be good for you to get to know Isabelle better. To get over your silly rivalry."

"Mom!" Clary whined, not liking where this was heading. "It's not a silly rivalry. She's the leader of the cool squad and she hates me. Ok? She practically tortures me at school. Do you know what it's like to be unpopular?"

"You don't try to make friends!" Jocelyn snapped. "You sit and paint and exist in your own little world...you're not a child anymore, Clary. You need friends. You're going to the Lightwoods' tonight and you'll get over this, Clary, even if I have to force you myself."

Clary choked. "Tonight?" Oh the horror! Nothing she owned was Lightwood-worthy; Isabelle and her siblings would have a good laugh at Clary's only dress, which Jocelyn would, no doubt, force her to wear.

"Yes, tonight. Maryse and I have talked it over." Jocelyn replied, grimly. "And I'm warning you - there'd better not be a repeat of this morning's events. Or else."

Unable to argue her way out, Clary balled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms. It was bad enough having to put up with the Lightwood gang at school - now she was being forced to hang out with them in her free time. Her free time, which she could have used constructively on a sketch.

Life just wasn't fair, she concluded.

️

"Stop fidgeting - you look fine." Jocelyn tucked a stray curl behind Clary's ear. That was a sure sign her anger had dissipated. Much like her daughter, she couldn't be gentle if she was still in a bad mood.

"I look like trash." Glaring at her reflection in the mirror, Clary wished, for perhaps the hundredth time, that her only dress wasn't in such an appalling shade of pink. Who even wore pink anymore? Let alone hot pink?

"With that look on your face? Yes, you do." Her mother held up a strand of silver pearls. "What about this? Would this make you feel a bit better?"

Clary's eyes widened. Her mother didn't usually let her wear any of her 'good jewellery'. All her good stuff was locked away in the bank, out of reach.

"You'd let me wear your pearls?"

Jocelyn shrugged. "Well, yes. You need a bit of bling and I...want you to know that I'm proud that you're doing this, even though you hate it. That you're trying to be grown-up."

Clary grinned as her mother fastened the string of pearls around her neck. "Proud enough to let me off the hook?"

"No such luck. Now get in the Jeep."

It was a fifteen minute drive to the Lightwoods', but, to Clary, it seemed more like a five minute drive. She had no time to gather her thoughts or school her face into an aloof, my-mom-is-making-me-do-this expression.

"We're here." Jocelyn announced, sounding deliberately cheery.

Clary swallowed nervously, wiping her sweaty hands on her dress. Thankfully, being cotton, it absorbed the moisture on her palms.

"Come on, Clary - I'm picking you up after dinner, so you've only got about two or three hours to battle through."

Battle through, Clary's brain repeated. Interesting choice of words, considering the fact it might just turn into literal warfare the minute I step into that house.

"Hello, Clarissa."

Isabelle's mom looked stern. Stern and rich. The latter was no surprise, of course - the Lightwoods were rolling and weren't afraid to flaunt it.

"Umm, I go by Clary, Mrs. Lightwood."

Maryse nodded ever so slightly, a look of distaste creeping across her face. "Come in. Do you want something to drink, Jocelyn? A little Ro-"

"No, Maryse - I'm driving. Plus I have to drop off some sketches at Luke's." Nimbly avoiding the opportunity to linger, Jocelyn said her goodbyes and departed - leaving Clary alone. Alone in a house full of Lightwoods. Oh joy.

"The kids are waiting for you upstairs." Maryse gave her a brief nod and disappeared down a tastefully decorated, expensively carpeted hallway - the likes of which Clary had never seen before.

For a few minutes, she lingered in the hallway, thinking, almost stupidly, her presence would go unnoticed until it was time to be picked up.

"Clarissa."

No such luck.

Clary's ears pricked up at the familiar honeyed tones she had come to strongly detest. "Kaelie. Hi."

Kaelie Whitewillow, luscious and lovely from the abundant white-blond locks atop her head to the hip strappy sandals her manicured toes peered out of, smirked. "What colour do you call that dress? I'm sure I've seen it on a landing strip somewhere. They use it to guide planes for landing, don't they?" She laughed at her own joke, deeply taken in by her cleverness.

Clary gritted her teeth; curbing her acerbic tongue. On a good day, she could whip up some brilliant witticism that would tear Kaelie's banal comments to shreds. But that wouldn't be grown up, would it?

Footsteps clattered down the marble staircase; they belonged to confident feet, housed in appalling stilettos (from the noise they made on the floor).

Isabelle. Clary's hackles rose. The Lightwood girl was sharper than Kaelie by far, though she was less easy to read. Isabelle Lightwood always left you wondering. Everything about her was a cliffhanger; there was something deeply unresolved in her character. It was fair to say she unsettled Clary beyond belief.

"Well, well, well. I didn't think you'd show." Beneath lowered lashes, Isabelle's dark eyes were mocking. "You're bolder than I gave you credit for."

"You don't know a thing about me. You like to think you do." In true Clary style, her emotions were overriding her good sense.

Isabelle shrugged. "If you say so."

"Where are the boys?" Kaelie fretted. "Don't say we've got to entertain this girl on our own?"

"I'm quite happy to be left to my own devices." Clary replied, with a sardonic smile. "I've reminded you of that countless times, though you seem not to remember it."

Kaelie lifted a brow. "Who the hell do you think you are, walking in here and being a smart-mouth?"

"Clary Fray. She does that - or haven't you heard? But I expect you have; you get her in detention enough."

Isabelle cleared her throat. "Look. We don't like this...arrangement any better than you do. But there's no getting around it. My mother's pretty adamant about trying to make buddies of us all, and I'm sure yours is the same. Why don't we agree on a strategy to get us through this...whatever this is?"

Clary eyed her suspiciously. It was not like Isabelle Lightwood to be rational. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'strategy'."

"Really? It's pretty simple. You keep out of our way and we'll keep out of yours. The attic's free, and you can borrow some of my magazines."

Now Clary understood. Isabelle had something to do, or some place to be, and didn't want her hanging around. Well, that was fine by her. She didn't want to hang around.

"I'll haunt the attic then."

Isabelle looked relieved. Kaelie, on the other hand, resembled a startled eel. "Why are we letting her go? She's only going to snoop."

Clary let out a derisive sniff as she ascended the staircase. "Snoop? What am I, five?"

"You look it." Kaelie snapped nastily.

"Trust me when I say I've got better things to do than snoop around in your things, Kaelie. God forbid I lose a few brain cells if I do."

Kaelie opened her mouth to stick her foot in it again, and Isabelle stopped her. "Come on." She muttered. "Movie night. The guys are coming over. We don't want her around."

"Ohh." Recognition flitted across Kaelie's countenance. "Right."

️

The attic was hot and stuffy and Clary felt faintly claustrophobic under the low ceiling. "This is not how I intended to spend the evening." She muttered aloud, pushing a stack of books out of the way so she could recline more comfortably on the motheaten sofa that she had plonked herself down on.

A low chuckle issued from behind a cobwebbed bookcase. "You know, I find myself thinking that a lot. More than I should, actually."

Momentarily stunned, for she had assumed she was on her own in the attic, Clary stared.

"You don't have to look like that." The voice went on, most conversationally. "You're too cute to resemble a fish."

Caught between shock and embarrassment, Clary said, "Who are you? If you're hiding behind bookcases and spying on people then I can only assume that you're a Lightwood."

From behind the bookcase there came the sound of someone getting to their feet. Then, an attractive, albeit dusty, boy appeared. His curling golden hair gave him an almost leonine appearance, made more so by his queer light gold eyes. He grinned. "You're wrong - I'm a Herondale. Jace Herondale, to be exact."

"Nice to meet you." Clary replied, in a voice that oozed sarcasm, for she knew Jace Herondale - thankfully not too well. He was Kaelie's boyfriend, the boy she made out with beside Clary's locker every morning, knowing full well that things like that were plenty gross. Nobody needed to have a close-up of people sticking tongues down each other's throats at nine in the morning.

"You needn't say it quite like that."

"Yes, I do." Clary replied, bluntly. "You're an asshole. Or, at least, your girlfriend is."

Jace looked unperturbed. "I can't disagree there. Though I'd prefer the term 'spirited'."

Clary snorted. "Spirited? Do you call chucking gum in someone's hair being 'spirited'? I call that being an asshole."

"We might be using two completely different dictionaries." He replied; his grin never seemed to slide off his face. It, like the rest of him, was the very definition of perfection. For, whilst some guys resembled nothing more than sly horses when they smirked, Jace looked as if he had stepped out of a Burberry ad. He continued, "So, what are you doing up here? I assumed you'd stick with the girls and be the thorn in their sides."

"They don't want me around. I can't say I'm devastated by the news."

Jace laughed - a sound of honest, unaffected amusement. "No wonder they hate you." He shook his head, still chuckling.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know. You hardly make an effort to ingratiate yourself. Izzy doesn't like that. Neither does Kaelie." Jace ran a hand through his lion's mane of hair. "You make them pretty insecure, I can tell you."

This was news to Clary. "I make them insecure? I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you properly."

Jace yawned, perfecting a posture of ennui. "Yes, you did. Now shall we stop this pointless conversation and move on to something more engaging?"

Clary raised a brow. "Such as?"

"Well, I'm a guy and you're a girl."

Her face flamed furiously. "Wh - what?"

Jace met her gaze with one of indifference, before breaking away and letting out little roars of laughter. "Oh God, your face! You should see your face, you really should. But I couldn't resist teasing Mother Superior."

If Clary had thought her face aflame before, it was nothing compared to the raging inferno spreading over her cheeks now. Not only was she short and smart and unattractive - she was also an idiot.

"I'm just...upset at the lewd suggestion." She lied. Good God, did I really believe he'd flirt with someone as appallingly unpopular as me?

"Nuh-uh." Jace waggled a finger in a manner reminiscent of a school teacher telling off a naughty student. "You were taken in weren't you?"

"I was not." She snapped.

"Yes, you were."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"Stop it." Clary got to her feet, flinging the book she had been (unsuccessfully) trying to absorb herself in down on the sofa.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find some intellectual company."

Jace chortled. "That might take awhile. There's precious little of that in this house. Besides, it's nearly dinner time. We could go down together."

Clary debated this. Whilst Jace Herondale might be a smug, annoying asshole, having him escort her to dinner would irritate Kaelie beyond belief. A slow smile inched across her face. "You know what? That actually sounds like a good idea."

️

Well, that is...that. As an introductory chapter, this is more like a taste of what is to follow. Think of it as a wine-tasting tour! If you like the wine (that is, the chapter) then buy the bottle (follow and comment).

Seriously, I adore feedback, as long as it's constructive and honest. Fair warning: I'm studying linguistics, which can be a bit of an ass to get on with, so I really don't re-read my fic countless times to check for bad grammar or misplaced lexis. If I've missed something, I'm sorry - I'm up to my eyeballs in work! I hope the next chapter will make up for it!

Ok, Ann, stop talking. Fine.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Clary beat an erratic rhythm on her thigh as she followed Jace down the stairs. The thought of baiting Kaelie was not a wholly unwelcome one, but the image of her mother - and, more importantly, what she would say if she knew what her daughter was doing - loomed large and disapproving at the back of her mind.

"Cheer up." Jace grinned his leonine grin. "This isn't a dental exam. We're going to prank my darling girlfriend into losing her shit." The lines of his smile tightened, and he looked away.

Clary found herself suddenly wondering if all was well between Jace and Kaelie. Beyond calling her mean stabs at Clary 'spirited', he hadn't done much in the way of defending her. Rather, he seemed to know of her bitchy side and not wholly approve. _Why else would he be holed up in the stuffy attic and not snogging the life out of her?_

"The Lightwood family." Jace nodded to a collection of framed photographs hanging on the wall as they made their descent. "Hard faced bastards, aren't they?" He chuckled, albeit good-naturedly.

Clary personally thought the Lightwoods were a pretty bizarre family. _Mom would never let me throw huge parties and wreck our house._ The Lightwoods' pool parties were legendary, and even members of the cool clique were known to fight over invitations. _But they'd never invite me, not in a million years_.

The thought was consoling. Clary was a distinctly anti-social individual who disliked being thrust out of her comfort zone. Not, of course, that many people would be aware of that, given her tough boots and acerbic tongue.

"So, this is your punishment?"

"What?" One hand on the bannister, she paused to frown at him.

"For pouring oil onto Izzy's hair." He glanced over his shoulder and studied her face with his queer golden eyes.

Clary felt a sudden urge to turn tail and run back up to the attic, but she quelled it. "No. This is my penance for not being quite so dumb as she is."

Jace's brows rose. "Don't let her hear you saying that."

"She's welcome to hear it, if she wanted to." she replied. "Crazy Isabelle Lightwood would've dumped oil on someone's head and set it alight - like she set fire to Connor's pants in eighth grade. Sensible Clarissa Fray chose to deviate from the obvious route of arson."

Jace let out a very genuine roar of laughter. "Ah, Connor the poor lad," he said, in a faux avuncular tone, "he should've known she was out of his league. He also should've stopped sending her messages at the dead of night by tying them onto bricks and throwing them through her window."

Clary frowned. " _No one_ would be stupid enough to do that."

Jace shrugged. "You'd be surprised." He continued to make his way down the stairs.

She trailed after him, her boots making altogether far too much noise on the wooden floor for her liking. She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror on the first floor landing and flushed. _I look like a ridiculous pink cupcake._ _And cupcakes are seriously un-sexy._

Jace was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. "The dining room awaits, my lady." he said, in a mock chivalrous tone. Dropping to his normal voice, he said, "There's something in your hair." Without pausing for permission, he brushed his hands through her hair, gently extracting a wobbly-legged spider.

"Oh, _yuck_!" Clary recoiled. "Talk about unwanted passengers."

He laughed. "Well, you've certainly spared him a long, web-taxing journey downstairs."

"He doesn't seem very grateful." The spider launched itself from the boy's hand and scuttled behind an oak cabinet.

"No." A shadow passed over Jace's face. "People aren't very grateful sometimes." Then the shadow passed and he smiled, though his smile wasn't quite at full-wattage. "Well, shall I escort you to dinner?" He offered her his arm.

Playing up, Clary twined hers through his. "Yes, milord, you may."

The Lightwoods' dining room was a large and spacious white-themed room. The floor was of bleached and sanded wood, the walls a peculiar albeit attractive pale silver-white, and the furniture cushioned with ivory material. The vibe emanating from it was one of class and wealth.

Almost humorous was the contrast between this room and Clary's own arty kitchen-cum-dining room at home. _No irregular paint splodges here._

"Ah, Clarissa." If Maryse found it odd that Jace and Clary's arms were entwined, she did not let it show. But then again, she scarcely glanced in Clary's direction for more than a few seconds at a time.

Kaelie, however, narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Was that little dweeb bothering you, Jace?"

"No - on the contrary, I found her company most welcome."

Maryse left the room, her cell phone to her ear; Isabelle looked on interestedly.

"Company?" Kaelie's mouth thinned. "You're a fast worker, Clarissa - though you might look about twelve."

"I've been told that guys like it young." Clary replied. She didn't quite like the insinuations that the other girl was making against her, but she wanted to rile her. _It'd make the evening more worthwhile. And besides, Mom said nothing about extending any kind of olive branch to Kaelie._

The other girl flushed violently. "You're a real bi-"

"Kay." Jace chided, mildly. "You ought to pick up a few innovative insults."

Kaelie made a jerky motion with her head. "Wait, you're on _her_ side? Why are you on _her_ side? _I'm_ your girlfriend. _Me_." A wave of possessive angst seem to crash over the assembled crowd.

Jace sighed. "Can't I be friends with other girls?"

"Yes, if I like them."

"You aren't my keeper, Kaelie."

"We're in this together."

 _I don't like where this is going._ Clary's intentions had been to work Kaelie up and make her a bit mad. Jace seemed to be using this bad feeling to row with his girlfriend. Whatever her feelings towards the other girl, Clary didn't want Kaelie to think of her as the one responsible for her and Jace's break-up.

"Izzy - back me up here." Kaelie's face was flaming.

Isabelle shrugged. "I'm an observer, hon. Neutral as Switzerland."

"What the bloody hell does Switzerland have to do with this?"

"Ahem." Alec cleared his throat. He'd been so subdued in the proceedings that it took a minute for the others to remember that he was there. "I'd like to point out that it seems a little silly to want to fight when there's a perfectly good meal spread out in front of us."

Kaelie stared at him, her chest heaving dramatically. She looked as if she would have liked nothing better than to have upturned all of the dishes on his head.

"Good idea." Jace gracefully took his seat. "Salad, anyone?"

Izzy snorted, pulling a dish of rice towards her. "Caesar salad and Chinese food? Only you, Jace..." She shook her head.

"I like them together." he objected. "I got Cook to make it."

Clary bit back a laugh. _Wait - was I seriously going to laugh? Am I going mad in this house or what?_

"So, Clarissa, how has your evening been so far?" Alec was, very obviously, trying to make polite conversation.

"Well, it hasn't been a _complete_ waste of time."

Kaelie flushed, though she said nothing.

Jace, meanwhile, was grinning in that cat-like fashion of his. "Good to know, Clary."

Isabelle let out a giggle. "So, did either of you spot Max on the way down?"

"He's probably drooling all over that stratocaster of his." Jace replied. "You know how much he loves his American Standard. How's his band doing by the way?"

"Good. He met this guy named Simon Lewis-"

Clary choked.

"-who's been inviting him along to gigs." Isabelle took a sip of water. "They're pretty good, actually. Max says they've got a gig at the Mortal Instruments. You know - that hip club run by that guy. That fashion designer guy...what's his name now..." she bit her lip, brow furrowed.

"Magnus Bane." Alec replied. He looked awe-struck. "Wow. That _is_ good."

Kaelie, who'd been listening to the conversation with little to no interest, suddenly perked up. " _Magnus_ Bane? Owner of Bane? The label?"

"Yes." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Where have you been for the past minute and a half, K?"

"He's soo hot." Kaelie ignored her, gushing profusely. "A total dreamboat. Daddy represents him. Daddy's a lawyer." She cast Clary an unashamedly superior glance.

"You've met him?" Jace's brows rose.

"Oh yes." Kaelie's eyes met his and for a brief moment the two of them exchanged unfathomable glances. Then, she said, "He's very hot. And so sweet. And rich."

"Of course." Clary muttered, under her breath. "He wouldn't be worth your while if he weren't."

"Sounds like the perfect guy." said Jace, eyes on his food.

"Oh, he _is_."

Isabelle's brows rose. "Umm...have you forgotten the fact that he's _gay_? As in, that he likes _guys_? I mean, I know you're a sexbomb, K, but-"

"He's bisexual." Kaelie shot back. "He likes guys _and_ girls."

Jace pushed his empty plate away. "Excuse me, guys, I have some homework to finish." He got up and walked away, not a glance to anyone.

Kaelie watched him go, her mouth thin. "God - what's _his_ problem?"

The look Alec gave her could have frozen water. "You don't know?"

"Ummm...should I?" She tittered.

"Seeing as you're his girlfriend, _maybe_."

The conversation flagged considerably after this. Although she wasn't really at fault - at least not entirely - Clary felt Kaelie's eyes on her whenever she wasn't looking in the other girl's direction. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Kaelie was nursing a grudge.

 _Well, let her. Stupid, arrogant, self-assured cow._ After dinner, Kaelie and Isabelle went up to Isabelle's room (no doubt to discuss The Problem of Clary), Alec took some food up to Max and Clary, left to her own devices, had had a most upsetting text.

 **will run a bit l8 - stay @ lightwoods til i reach thr** **xox mom**

"Dammit." Clary cursed, kicking the wooden floor.

"Hey - that's expensive to maintain."

Clary let her breath out in a whoosh. "That's the second time you've snuck up on me today, Jace."

"Really?" His eyes were mildly amused. "I've been told it's sexy to show persistance when pursuing a girl."

Clary's eyes flew open. Her heartbeat thudded...then died down... She glared at him. "Stop messing with me."

"What do you mean?" He took a step towards her. Then another. "I don't lie, Clary Fray." Another.

"Good for you." Clary took a few steps away from him. "May I remind you that you have a _girlfriend_?"

"Kaelie?" Jace's eyes affixed themselves to a point far overhead. "What about her?"

"Well...you can't be a _cheater_."

He laughed sourly. "Everyone's a cheater, Clary. The world's run out of good people."

Clary turned away from him.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you." It wasn't the smartest of responses, but she was tired. And fed up. She wanted the evening to end and be back home with Luke and her mom, preferably watching a silly comedy on TV.

"No." He reached out and grabbed her arm. "Listen - please. You're the first person, outside of my adoptive family, whom I've been able to speak to so - so easily. I'm not on pins whenever I speak to you."

Clary snatched her arm away. "And what am I supposed to say to that?"

"I don't know."

"What do you _expect_ me to say?"

"Nothing." And he looked at her, and he was sort of bouncing on his feet, as if mentally preparing himself for something. Then-

He kissed her.

It wasn't sexy. It wasn't hot. It wasn't even particularly dramatic. Just the linking of lips with the barest whisper of promise.

Clary stumbled back. Her face was flame, her breath hitched in her throat. _My first kiss. I didn't expect it to be with_ -

Jace's eyes were surprisingly bright. They gleamed like cat's eyes in the murky light of the hallway; large and golden. "Clary." he said.

 _What did I just do?_ A wave of panic suddenly coursed through her. Yes, she wanted to get back at Kaelie for being a mean cow, but there was no way she wanted to be the - the - the _third wheel_ in anybody's relationship. _Mom would murder me._

"I'm sorry, Jace, but that was an...invasion of my private space."

He raised a brow. "You weren't fighting me off."

Her face flamed harder. "It took me by surprise."

Jace's expression suddenly darkened. "All right. I'm sorry. I misread things. I thought you wanted it."

"Why would you think that?"

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance though there was an unsettled air to his movements. "Well, you always seemed to be...around. At school. I thought-"

"We go to the same school. Of course I'd be _around_." Some small part of her wanted to cry. _What the hell? Am I getting my period or what?_

"Woah." he backed away. "Where's all this aggression come from? It was a kiss. Just a kiss. It's not like I, uh, violated you in any way. It's a kiss - everyone kisses."

 _That was my first kiss! I wanted my first kiss to be special_ But out loud, she said, "Just because everyone kisses doesn't mean you ought to kiss everyone."

His eyes flew open in surprise. "What? I don't kiss _everyone_. I don't kiss the geeky chicks, do I?"

"No," she replied, suddenly seething, "you only kiss the bitches." **Crack!** Her hand flew across his face.

Jace stumbled, his hand cradling the side of his face.

"I hope that hurt." Clary's voice was wobbly, and she hated it.

-

"How did the evening go?" Jocelyn wore optimism like perfume. "Is everything all right now?"

"No, Mom." Clary glowered in the back seat. "Everything is _not_ all right now."

Luke, behind the wheel, let out a sigh. "Clary, you have to give a little to get a little. You can't expect to build bridges when you surround yourself with thorns."

"I don't want to build bridges. I just want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes." Her stepfather frowned. "You aren't the only person in the world, you know. Sooner or later you're going to need to know how to interact with people, either at university or at work or later on in your life. Learning how to do that must start now."

Clary heaved a sigh. "I don't need a lecture now, Luke. I need a warm shower, a cup of cocoa and my bed."

"Alright." Luke nodded. "But, please, Clary, give this...bad feeling between yourself and your classmates some deeper thought. Think of it as a trial, of sorts - that, if you pass, will help you on your journey to adult life."

"And remember," Jocelyn cut in, "whatever your decision, whatever you do or don't do, we love you. And that won't change."

-

Eh, mushy mushy. Well, howzat? I'd love feedback, even if you just said you'd read it.

The next chappie will feature Jace and Clary's complex, developing relationship at school and how Kaelie reacts to it! There will be drama with a capital D, cause I'm bringing out Magnus. Yay!


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Backpack bouncing on her back, Clary tried to scoot into class unnoticed. Luck, however, was not on her side.

A harpy, in the form of the immaculately dressed Kaelie Whitewillow, barred her way. "Cla-ry." If she had fangs, she would have bared them in a gesture of open aggression.

"Kaelie." Come morning, Clary deeply regretted her decision to bait the other girl, despite their mutual dislike. This was only heightened by the fact she'd kissed another girl's boyfriend. _Though, **he** kissed_ _**me** , so technically I'm blameless_. Somehow she knew Kaelie wouldn't see it that way.

"I see you've come in dressed like the trash you are." Kaelie snorted, looking pleased with herself for what she considered a witticism. "Why don't you take yourself out, like trash?"

 _I am trash. I kissed your boyfriend. He kissed me. We kissed. Whatever._

Taking on some kind of inner strength she didn't know she possessed, Clary stood her ground. Looked the other girl in the eye. Laughed. "You're pathetic. Do you know that, Kaelie? _Pathetic._ Even your own boyfriend wouldn't stand up for you."

It was a stab in the dark, but one rather below the belt. Kaelie's eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back.

Momentarily, Clary felt terrible. _Oh God, why did I-_

"You watch your back, Fray." Kaelie hissed, between gritted teeth. Her mascara smudged around her eyes. "Watch your back, cause I'm going to get you. And when I do," she leaned in close, "you're going to be begging me to release you from the horror your life has become." She turned on her heel and walked back to her seat.

Clary swallowed. The other girl's threats didn't sting half as much as her own guilty conscience. If she could have gone back to the previous night and pushed Jace away, she would have, she told herself.

 _Then I'd never had to have had his lips press against mine; unfamiliar lips, soft lips, gentle, caressing_ -

She shook her head, as if to clear the unwelcome thoughts from it. _Did I just...think of his lips? Why would I do that? Get a grip, Fray._

"Hey, Clary." Simon bustled in, bleary eyed as usual. The smell of stale cigarette smoke clung to his rumpled clothes like perfume. "Meditating in the doorway?"

Clary forced out a laugh. "I had a lo-o-ong night."

Simon shrugged. "Same here. I love the band, but...urgh. Between all the gigs we've got I'm burnt out. Like a cigarette butt."

She wrinkled her nose. "You smell like one, too."

"I do not."

"You do too."

"Lewis! Fray! Must you stand in the doorway and chit-chat?" Mr. Starkweather - their irritable class teacher - glowered at them. The bags under his eyes almost rivalled Simon's, and his flushed face betrayed the tell-tale broken veins of a habitual drinker.

Simon and Clary hurried to their seats, recognising the signs of an erratic teacher about to go nuclear.

"Right." Mr. Starkweather barked. "Now that Genius One and Genius Two have decided to park their bottoms on their seats, shall we get on with today's lesson?"

Jace and Alec were whispering loudly at their desk behind Kaelie and Isabelle's. Jace had a stubborn look on his face that suggested that he was being told off for something that he did not believe he had done wrong. Clary knew it well - she had worn it many a time in her youth and still continued to do so.

"Mr. Herondale! Mr. Lightwood!" Starkweather rapped hard on his desk; face flashing puce. "How would the both of you like to take over today's class, seeing as how you assume you know enough to pay no attention?"

Alec fell silent, sitting up straighter in his seat. Jace smiled his cat-like smile and replied, smoothly, "I'd love to, Mr. Starkweather. If there's any subject I'm a master at it's human biology."

The class broke into titters. Clary herself could scarcely hold back her laughter, though Mr. Starkweather looked fit enough to kill.

"Ouuuuut!" Starkweather roared, spittle flying. "Get your bottom off that seat and never let me see it in here again."

"Mr. Starkweather!" Jace let out a mock gasp. "The girls would never survive. It is the sight of my glorious hindquarters that gives them spirit enough to get through the day."

Alec groaned, Isabelle looked amused and the rest of the class let out a collective roar of laughter. In desperation, Starkweather picked his textbook off the table and launched it in Jace's direction.

Though his rage was understandable, his aim was rather a stranger to perfection. The textbook hit Aline Penhallow square in the face and knocked her off her seat.

"Mr. Starkweather, what did that poor book ever do to you? Not to mention Aline's-"

"Get out, get out, get out," Starkweather had resorted to hopping on the spot, which, though he scarcely knew it, would have done wonders for his heart condition if he practised it on a daily basis.

Jace, grinning wickedly to himself, 'got out'.

From then on, the lesson was as mundane as it was boring. Several times, noticing Simon's head falling onto his open textbook as if it were a pillow, Clary elbowed him hard.

She was in the process of doing so again when something dug into her back. She glanced over her shoulder.

"What's your problem?" Kaelie hissed. "Why were you laughing at Jace's jokes like that?"

"Because they were funny." Clary replied, returning to her work.

Kaelie poked her again. "You needn't act up like that - he doesn't like you. You're just a little dweeb to him." She leaned forward; her tight blouse gaped open, exposing creamy flesh and a great deal of something else.

 _Urgh. The hot girls have **everything**._ Anger lent her malice. She smiled and said, "It's funny, but he didn't think I was a dweeb last night. At least, he didn't say so." Continuing to smile sweetly at the open innuendo in her voice, she resumed her work.

All was peaceful in classroom 11B at Idris High for the best part of a half hour, then-

"Mr. Starkweather." Kaelie's hand shot into the air. "Mr. Starkweather - Clary stole my homework."

Starkweather, who like Simon was falling into the soft snoring clutches of sleep, jerked awake. "Eh?"

"Clary _stole_ my homework."

Clary flushed violently. "That's a lie. I'd never steal homework - especially from someone like _Kaelie_."

The class tittered, for Kaelie, though popular, was not well-liked.

"Check in her bag."

Clary's backpack was slung over the back of her chair. In a few swift strides Starkweather, now impressively alert, had snatched hold of it, opened it and was riflig through it.

Kaelie watched the proceedings with glee. Clary felt intensely irritated. _What a cow. Doesn't she know I can't get in trouble if I don't have her stupid book?_

"That's it, that's it!" Kaelie spasmed in her seat with glee.

Clary, absolutely stunned, watched her class teacher remove a hot-pink exercise book from her backpack.

"Care to explain how this book came to be in your bag, Ms. Fray?"

"I didn't take it." _This is ridiculous. Obviously Kaelie must have opened my backpack and stuck it in. It's just the sort of idiotic thing she'd do._

"It's her word against yours and the book's in your bag."

Clary did what she hoped she wouldn't do. She lost her temper. "Well, don't ask _me_ how it got there. You only need to look at the way that _cat's_ grinning to know who put it there."

Starkweather's bushy brows rose; he resembled nothing more than a startled owl at that point. "Ms. Fray, I don't like that-"

"You don't need to like it! She's an idiot - I'd never steal her book. Not unless I wanted my brain cells to curl up and die."

"Ms. Fray, I think it's best if you left the class."

"But I-"

"Now."

"But-"

"Now!"

Clary got to her feet, slung her backpack over her back and left. _Stupid cow. Stupid owl._

Deeply disillusioned with the day ahead, she let herself wander, trusting her feet to take her to the safe little sanctuary of an empty class in which she could sketch.

The same luck that had so callously abandoned her at the start of the day now gifted her wings. She found a perfect, light, airy classroom and spent the next half-hour sketching a herd of horses galloping through a misty moor full of bowing lavender and long grass. She didn't know if either lavender or grass grew on moors, but figured that all was fair in love and art.

"Hey."

A shadows drifted across her line of sight. Materialised.

"Jace? What are you doing here?"

He frowned, wary of her tone. "I wasn't spying on you. I swear." That sounded lame even to her ears.

"Sure you weren't." Clary shut her sketchbook. "What do you want?"

He didn't reply, he just stood there, biting his lip. "Well, I thought we might hang out, seeing as how we've both been chased from our classroom."

Clary had half a mind to blow up at him, but there was something rather fragile about his expression that stopped her. "Alright." She slid her sketchbook into her backpack, zipped it up and shouldered it. "I suppose your legions of fans have taken the day off?"

He smiled crookedly. "Yes, they have." He stuck his hand out. "Come on, I want to show you something."

A stab of doubt thrust into her chest. For a minute, she hesitated. Then she swallowed her doubt and took Jace's hand. There was something electric about it - something that just shouted ' _this is the right thing to do_ ' at the back of her mind.

"Ok, lead on adventurous stranger."

"We aren't going to Narnia." He chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't half mind going to Narnia, you know." she said, blissfully unconcerned that she sounded all of ten years old.

Jace looked at her, his eyes suddenly going very bright. Then he looked away. "Come on, let's go."

-

"You said that you were going to take me _somewhere_. This isn't somewhere. This is..." Clary racked her brains and came up with nothing. "What _is_ this place?"

"The Mortal Instruments." Jace replied, promptly. "A club."

"Wow." Clary had never been to a club before. It was something Jocelyn had never allowe her to do. "Are we even supposed to be here?"

"Who cares?" Jace shrugged nonchalantly. "It doesn't open until eleven. Nobody could possibly know that we-"

"Well, you're wrong, pumpkin."

Clary whirled around and found the strangest man she'd ever seen in her life staring down at them from a balcony overlooking the dance floor they stood on.

"Magnus." Jace grinned enthusiastically. "How are you?"

Magnus Bane - for that was who he was - made a sour expression. "Jace Herondale. I told you just last week that if I saw you again in a hundred years it would be two hundred years too soon."

"Aww." Jace laughed. "You were only mad because I tasered your cat."

Magnus shuddered; a small quantity of glitter cascaded from the balcony. "I had half a mind to report you to the RSPCA."

"You'd never have done it."

"Don't make me mad, pumpkin." Magnus waggled one index finger with bright green nail-polish at them chidingly.

"See?" Jace turned to Clary. "He loves me. He'd have got his father's people to bump me off if he didn't."

"Right." Clary didn't know what to make of it all.

"Wrong." Magnus examined his nails. "I didn't have you bumped off because I'd have a devil of a time finding a replacement for you. You're the face of my Fall campaign."

"That's his way of saying I'm irreplaceable." Jace said, to a perplexed Clary.

"Right." Clary replied, as before.

"You're dazzling the poor girl." Magnus called, from the balcony. "Haven't I told you to tone down your razzle-dazzle until you're in front of the camera?"

"I can't help it. I'm a faucet of sexiness. The Atlantic Ocean of hotness." Jace seemed to relax with Magnus in much the same way Clary had noticed him relax around Alec. There was an easy familiarity between them that made her feel rather left out. _But you're nothing to him, Clary_ , she reminded herself. "I've seen models sashay past me and swoon."

Magnus tut-tutted. "Anorexia. They ought to eat more. Walking sticks, the lot of them, at my last show. They've got _no_ energy." He inclined his head and said, animatedly, "Now _Kaelie_ , on the other hand, would-"

"Ahem, we were talking about how hot I am." Though Jace's expression hadn't changed a bit, his voice had hardened by a fraction.

Magnus, oblivious, snorted and shook his head. More glitter fell.

"Bane - it's starting to look like a demented faerie went to town here." Jace brushed glitter off his shirt as if its presence was an insult to his masculinity.

"That's the _in_ thing, now." The designer replied. "Otherworldly glitter is _trés chic_." He yawned and looked at the flashy watch on his wrist. "Dear me, I _do_ have to run. Can I trust you to see yourselves out when you're done hanging about like _rather_ unfashionable bats? And not wreck my club doing so?"

Jace assumed a thinking expression, tapping his finger on his chin. "Gee, Magnus, I don't know. I've got this sudden urge to wreck your club."

Magnus chortled. "Alright, pumpkin. And don't you dare try cleaning up, either. I like the look of a deconstructed mess." And with that he was gone, trailing a shimmering cloud of glitter.

"Wonderful, isn't he?" Jace grinned.

Clary cocked a brow. "If by 'wonderful' you mean 'utterly bizarre', yes." _Why is he being so nice to me? I mean, his girlfriend hates my guts and his adoptive sister treats me like I'm gum under her shoe half the time._

"You should see this place at night. It comes alive."

"Mmmhmm." _It's almost as if he doesn't mind the fact that I'm short, plain and a freak._

"There's great music - you get live bands performing here sometimes. Max's band is set to gig here on Friday. That's the day after tomorrow." He shot her a sudden glance. "Do you - would you - do you think you'd like to, umm, come along?"

Jace Herondale - bold, wonderful Jace Herondale - stammering in front of her was a beautiful thing to behold. _He isn't just a popular douche._

She wanted to say yes - some raw part deep inside her wanted to say yes. But, out loud, all she said was, "Is Kaelie coming along too?"

Jace looked startled. He took a step back. "Can't we just go as friends? I mean," he crossed the distance, "you're someone I really get, Clary. I can talk to you like it's _nothing_. Believe me, I know I can be a bit of an asshole - okay, a _lot_ of an asshole - sometimes, but I'm not trying to, you know..." he trailed off, his queer golden eyes boring deep into Clary's.

Clary swallowed. This was escalating a little too fast. She knew _exactly_ what he was trying to say. But... "Jace," she said, as kindly as she could, "you don't know me. We had our first _conversation_ yesterday."

She studied the lines of his face as his gaze dropped to the floor. The high cheekbones, the fine straight nose, the soft lips. _Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I've been reading you wrong. You **do** want to be friends, you love Kaelie, that kiss was a mistake. Tell me._

He didn't. He didn't even look. He stared at the glitter on the floor as if the bloody shiny things would grow wings and carry off the woes that made his face look so long.

Clary said, "Look, I don't know what you think I am, but I'll enlighten you. I don't steal other girls' boyfriends. Hell, I've never even had a boyfriend-"

Jace's gaze lifted; wide-eyed.

"-and before last night, I'd never kissed a guy before. I'm a geeky little innocent, no matter how I dress or what friends I keep." _Well, technically, 'friend'. But Simon's slept with so many people that he might actually count as a gang of Simons._

"Clary, Clary." Jace lifted a hand to stop her. "Give me some credit. I _didn't_ have you pegged as a girl like - like Kaelie. I-"

 _Kaelie Kaelie Kaelie._ "Jace, I don't want to have this conversation. I don't know what made me bunk school and come to this place with you, but I'm going back now."

He stared at her in openmouthed surprise. "What? _Why?_ "

 _Can't you see? Are you fricking blind?_ "Because you make me feel shitty! You think it's ok to kiss me behind your girlfriend's back-"

"It was _one_ kiss."

"-and then ask me to go with you to some club-"

"Clary!"

"-where, as like as not there'd be drug addicts and a motley crowd of really mmph!"

His mouth was suddenly on hers again, but this time it wasn't gentle. His lips crashed down hard on hers; one arm snaked around her waist, pressing her to him, the other tangling in her hair.

It was an exhilarating tumble of sensations; his lips on hers, unyielding, demanding, the impression of one large hand on her back and the other pulling at her hair, the smell of him and the taste, though faint, of what could be when his lips parted hers.

His lips pulled away, then reclaimed hers and Clary groaned into him; all thoughts of Kaelie and being good somehow vanished with all the fireworks under her closed eyelids.

They could have stood there for hours, and all the hours would have just smashed into each other in one heated frenzy, a bone-crushing embrace that neither seemed capable of extricating themselves from.

When finally it was over, they stood apart, panting as if they had each run a marathon.

Jace made as if to speak, and Clary shushed him. Their eyes met. He understood. Don't talk. Just embrace it.

-

 **Well, howzat? Methinks it went ok. But tis not my opinion that counts, fair reader, but yours.**

 **Umm...**

P.S. (to my last reviewer of C2) No offence, but I think there's a lot of merit in first depicting Clary as, sort of, unattractive. That way, there's greater drama and more scope for story development - if only to follow her journey from a geek to a hottie worthy of the hottest guy at Idris High (which may or may not be the case with this fic). Thanks for your views, but I can't see them as immediate plot alterations. But Clary will definitely get hotter as the story progresses (I am planning several steamy scenes between her and Jace). Besides, if C's no longer a virgin at the start of the story, how does that enable me to use her loss of innocence as a plot twist?

Dear PMer Mike, I thought it would seem like satisfying justice when all Kaelie's attempts to seperate Jace and Clary end up drawing them closer.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

The sun was bright when she woke the next morning. It blazed through her thin cotton curtains, as golden as Jace's hair. Clary lay in bed, smiling, picturing his face in the dreamscape of her mind.

Even her mother's harsh yell from downstairs to rouse her could scarcely dull the fierce joy in her heart. For her heart was beating as it had never beat before.

The exact reason she had fallen for Jace Herondale was unknown even to her. There was just something about him. Something in the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her, as if there was nothing but her and her alone to capture his attention when they were together.

"Clary! School! Don't make me drag the sheets off you!"

She roused herself and dressed and ate in much the same sort of dream world she had existed in as she slumbered.

It was only during the drive to school that one factor became apparent: Kaelie.

 _Oh God, Oh God...how do I face her at school?_ The only consolation was that Kaelie didn't know that she'd snogged her boyfriend. _I hope it stays that way._

She felt like a bitch even thinking about it, but, for Kaelie's sake at least, she felt that Jace ought to have broken up with the other girl before kissing her.

 _God, though, I hope I don't run into her. I'd be scared stiff._

When she got to school, Clary approached her locker tentatively.

At the locker next to hers stood a tall, blonde girl with her face scrunched up as if she were about to cry. She was rooting through her locker when a large photograph came un-stuck and fell at her feet.

Suddenly inquisitive, Clary craned her neck to see who or what the photograph was of. _Knowing Kaelie it's probably a pop singer or something. Justin Bieber, maybe?_

But the photograph was not of Justin Bieber. Rather, it was of a pair of thirteen-year-old kids; a boy and a girl, both blond. The boy's hair was darker than the girl's, a light gold, while hers was more silver. Across the top of the photograph, in letters large enough for Clary to read, were the words "Best Friends".

Clary took a surprised step backwards. The boy and the girl were Jace and Kaelie.

Kaelie looked over her shoulder. She had heard the brief intake of breath that Clary didn't even know she had taken.

She scowled, making her features look rather ugly. "What the hell do you want, Clarissa?"

For a minute, Clary was silent, quite taken up with guilt. Then, detecting no change in the other girl's aggressive stance, she said, "To get to my locker."

"Right." Kaelie grabbed some books from her own locker and slammed the locker door shut. "Right. Go ahead. I guess I'm such a useless person that I'm a waste of space now." She turned to walk away.

"I didn't say that." Clary called after her.

"No?" Kaelie whirled around. "Well, you sure as hell act like it."

Deeply confused, Clary gaped.

"Don't try that innocent look with me, Clarissa Fray. I know what you've been doing with my boyfriend behind my back."

The other kids in the hallway stopped what they were doing to look on with interest.

Clary flushed. The last thing she wanted at that moment was an audience. "Look, I'm sorry-"

"Sure." Kaelie snorted, tossing her head like a spirited horse. "You're _sorry_ you've been screwing my boyfriend. Wow...that is _so_ believable." Unlike Clary, she seemed to relish the idea of having an audience. The actress in her was rising to the occasion. " _So_ believable. Just how many times did you guys go at it until you realised it was wrong? Five times? Ten times? Fifteen?" Her voice trembled.

Clary shook her head violently. "I _haven't_ been screwing Jace behind your back. I swear. I-"

"You expect me to believe that?" Kaelie retorted. "You must think I'm even dumber than I look. I bet you look at me and think "dumb blonde". But I'm not." Her voice cracked like a whip. "I know you were alone in the attic with him at the Lightwoods. What were you guys doing? _Talking_?"

"Yes, we were." Clary replied, flushing hard. To even her own ears, her voice had a quiver of guilt. _Now I know how wrongfully convicted murderers feel when the police have forced them to confess to a murder they haven't done._

Kaelie's lower lip trembled like an actress in a Shakespearean tragedy. "You _knew_ he liked you. You _capitalised_ on it." She glanced at their audience; every bit a politician on the stand. "You used your feminine wiles to steal him from me. I'd noticed him drawing away for months, but I had no proof. That was smart of you - but you didn't give me enough credit. You didn't think I'd ever find you out. But I did." Her voice rung triumphantly.

"God." Clary paled. "I swear, Kaelie-"

"Stop the innocent girl act, Clarissa. It doesn't suit you and you're a crap actress."

Their audience was beginning to talk. Cupping their hands over their mouths, they whispered animatedly to each other.

 _This is probably going to be all over social media,_ Clary thought. _And my reputation is going to be finished. I'll be Clarissa Fray, The Third Wheel. And I haven't **done** anything_. But the memory of the kiss - the kiss she'd wanted, responded to, found herself thinking of - throbbed at the back of her mind, scorching her cheeks.

"You know how you look, Clarissa?" Kaelie walked up to her. "You look guilty. You look like a guilty little piece of trash." The look she gave Clary was contemptuous enough to make her _feel_ like a piece of trash. "Please don't ever speak to me again. I don't want to talk to people like you." And with that, she spun on her heel and walked off, head held high.

Clary swallowed. She was hemmed in by angry, scornful faces. She wanted to cry. She wanted the earth to open up and welcome her into its dark folds, where no one would ever look at her with such contempt again.

When the tears started to pour down her cheeks, she bowed her head and ran.

-

Simon found her, three hours later, curled up in a ball on the floor of one of the free classrooms.

"What's up, Clary?" he demanded. "The principal's called your mother. At first I thought you'd got hurt, but Aline kept saying something about a fight."

 _It was hardly a fight. Kaelie had all the winning cards in her hands. There was nothing for me to do but stand and take it._

"Clary?" Simon lay a hand on her shoulder. "Jesus, Clary, what's wrong? You can tell me."

Clary shook his hand off. "You _know_ what's wrong. You _must_. It'll be all over Facebook by now." The thought made her insides hurt. _I'm not that kind of girl. I haven't done anything wrong._

 _No,_ a little voice at the back of her mind said, _you have. You encouraged Jace. You should have avoided him - even though you were flattered that a boy was finally taking notice of you. It wasn't your place to lead him on, to let him kiss you and know how you felt about him. He wasn't yours to claim that way._

Simon looked grave, for once. The dark circles around his eyes were darker than she had ever remembered them being. "It is." he said. "But Jace is a bit of a playboy, so-"

" _I'm_ not. I'm not like that. And now - now - now," she gulped, "everyone thinks I am. Oh, God, Simon!" She reached for him.

"Hey." He leant down and hugged her to him. "Don't. Don't blame yourself. You're new to this and Jace Herondale is a master manipulator-"

Clary sobbed. _He isn't. I know he isn't. That glow in his eyes - that can't be a lie. It **can't**._

"Clary." Simon stroked her hair and let her sob on his shoulder.

 _I hate this. I really, really hate this. I wanted to be the tough girl, the girl who could weather anything. But here I am, sitting on the cold, hard floor, bawling my eyes out. What a pathetic little figure I am._

"If it's any consolation," Simon said, "Jace and Kaelie broke up. They-"

Clary shook her head furiously. _I won't take pride in having had a hand in that. I won't._

"Don't you want to hear about it?" he asked, looking at her curiously. "It's fresh goss."

"No, I don't." she replied, sharply. "Jace treated her rotten."

Simon looked taken aback. "Clary - she's an absolute bitch. Herondale must have been a saint to put up with her. Imagine having to deal with a million jealous rages a day - not to mention all the bitching she does. She's a real," he made a rude gesture.

"Even so."

"What do you mean, even so? Earth to Clary, calling an asshole by another name does not make it less of an asshole."

Clary sighed. "She was jealous, Si. And she had good reason to be."

Simon gave her a hard look. "If she had any sense, she'd have broken up with Herondale to save her dignity."

"She loved him. Loves him." she corrected. "They used to be best friends." She remembered the picture that had fallen out of Kaelie's locker. "I guess she thought he'd snap out of it."

Simon's mouth tightened. "Some guys don't. And Jace has an especially roving eye." He shifted away from her as she sat up. "You know what I don't get?"

"What?"

"Why you didn't _tell_ me. We're best friends. We're supposed to share everything - secrets included."

Clary exhaled. "You didn't tell me you had a gig at The Mortal Instruments."

He looked stunned. "You're equating a gig with _this_?"

"I am. I don't want to hear what my best friend is doing from other people." The idea of continuing in the Jace vein of topic made her chest ache, so she turned the conversation on Simon.

Irritation flashed across his face. "Don't try dodging the bullet, Clary. I asked you a question. Or, at least, I'm asking you one now - why didn't you _tell_ me what was going on with Herondale?"

Clary shrugged, biting her lip. "I don't know. I - it...was magical, somehow. I've never had a guy look at me the way he did. I thought that if I told someone, it would seem like an overreaction. My mind playing tricks on me." Her eyes pricked.

"Oh, Clary." Simon stroked her back.

It was calming. Clary felt as if she were all of six years old, and back at Simon's old house. She'd just scraped her knee, blood was oozing from the wound, and she was about to cry. Then Simon ran up with a band-aid, attended to her knee, and sat with her, stroking her back until she was okay.

"Cla- _ry_ Fr _ay._ "

Principal Penhallow stood in the doorway, hands on her hips in a gesture of adult displeasure. "Just _what_ were you thinking of, young lady - making us hunt all about the place for you?" Clary opened her mouth to reply, but the principal swept on. "I have your mother in my office and she's worried stiff. It's bad enough that you have created a scene in the hallway before class - you've also bunked most of your subjects for the day and made yourself disappear so completely that the school administrators nearly called the police. I am this close," she motioned a length of about a centimetre with her forefinger and thumb, "to suspending you." Her eyes raked Simon, disapprovingly. "Mr. Lewis, in future I expect you to alert a teacher when a missing student has been found."

"It wasn't his fault-" Clary burst out.

"Please be quiet, Ms. Fray!" Principal Penhallow snapped. "I want you to make your way to my office _immediately_."

There was nothing for it but to obey. Clary's heart sunk at the thought of what her mother would say. _She'd be so disappointed. She'd think I didn't even try to get along with the cool kids. And if she knows about Jace_...

She shuddered. That was a truly terrifying thought. Jocelyn had a temper to rival a devil's when she was roused, and she hated to think of her daughter as anything but a proper young lady.

 _Wonderful, Clary. You're a bitch and you're gonna break your mother's heart. Lovely._

The walk to the principal's office was not nearly as long as she'd hoped it would be. There was no time to think of any excuses as to what her and Kaelie's spat in the morning could have been. She entered the room feeling empty.

"Clary?" Jocelyn jumped to her feet. "Clary, what the hell is going on? The school called my studio - I was in the middle of replicating some prints - and I thought something had _happened_ to you."

"I-" Clary began.

"Clarissa has behaved _most_ shamefully." Principal Penhallow interrupted. "She had a terrible row with Kaelie Whitewillow - the Whitewillows are, of course, the school's chief benefactors. I cannot allow the daughter of my school's dearest patrons to be antagonised."

Jocelyn gave the principal one long, considering look. Clary could see her expression change from one of worry to one of anger; her mouth tight and eyes narrow. "Jia, I'd appreciate it if you could drop the bullshit for a minute."

Principal Penhallow gave a start; Clary gaped. "Mom-"

"Butt out of this, Clary." Jocelyn motioned for her daughter to take a seat. "Jia, when I enrolled my daughter at your school, I did so on the understanding that Idris High would be committed to her education. Now I understand that that was too much to hope for. My daughter has-"

"Your daughter has played traunt-"

" _My daughter_ has been having problems with some of her classmates. I have met with you many times to discuss this," Clary gaped; Jocelyn frowned at her, "and you have always advised me to make her spend some time in their company so that whatever issues they have with each other could be resolved. And that," her nostrils flared, "was a whole load of bullshit. How much are the Whitewillows pumping into your schools? How many hundreds of dollars a term, to overlook the less than brilliant attitudes of their children?"

Principal Penhallow went red. "I would advise you not to make insinuations-"

"Meliorn Whitewillow was a drug dealer." Jocelyn went on, loudly. "And yet when _my_ daughter gets into an argument with _his_ sister, my daughter's to blame. Can you explain to me how that works?"

"This has nothing to do with Meliorn Whitewillow. May I ask you, Mrs. Garroway, to stay on point-"

"I _am_ on point. You are contemplating _suspending_ my _daughter_ for arguing in the hallway. It's not as if she bombed the chemistry lab, Jia. This is a typical teenager thing, but you see fit to punish my daughter-"

"Fighting of any form - whether it be a verbal or non-verbal battle - is against the rules. Clary ought to have-"

"What?" Jocelyn's hair started snaking out from the bun at the base of her neck - something that only happened when she was either _very_ angry or _very_ frustrated. "What about the Whitewillow girl? Do you expect me to assume she stood there like a meek little mouse?"

Principal Penhallow looked restless. She tugged at her collar. "The administrators have decided that Ms. Whitewillow is free of guilt-"

"Bullshit!" Jocelyn snapped. "The entire school board is in the Whitewillows' pocket. I'm sick of this. Clary, get your backpack - we're leaving."

Clary, stunned into silence, sat mutely in her chair.

"Clary!"

Clary's eyes met the principal's. Something flashed in the woman's eyes, then was gone. _Pity? Regret?_

"Coming, Mom."

It was strange to walk through the school grounds with her mother at her side. Clary's classmates paused their soccer match to stare at the duo.

Jace, standing in the middle of the field, made as if to go towards her, but Clary shook her head and turned away. Her eyes pricked. In the split second in which she had turned away she had seen a hurt look flicker across his face.

 _I'm the hurt one, but why does it look as if his heart is breaking?_

\--

\--

 **Well? How did I do? I appreciate any and every kind of feedback, whether they be in the form of suggestions, critique or anything else :)**

Dear guest reviewer (flyyoufools) and all interested parties - Kaelie may come off as bitchy, but how would you act if you assumed someone was stealing your other half? She believes she has every reason to dislike Clary, because she refuses to admit the fact her boyfriend is a bit of a cad. Which isn't Kaelie's fault, because no one knows how to act in a relationship when the other party is cheating. Instead of breaking things off with her, Jace is sighing after Clary. You could even go so far as to say he's 'obsessed' with her. ;)

Dear oesteffel, I hope I've managed to answer even a few of your questions in the chappie. And as for who's obsessed, I'd have to say nearly everyone is with something/one (Jace=Clary, Clary=Jace, Simon=band, Kaelie=Jace, Whitewillows=prestige...etc).


	5. Chapter Five

**Written because I'm basically a vampire who loves being out in the middle of the night. Seriously, party fever, anyone?**

 **Chapter Four**

Clary sat on her bed, her sketchbook on her lap. She wasn't sketching anything, nor was she leafing through her drawings, it just felt comforting to have it there. It was like a favourite soft toy or a cup of warm cocoa, and she felt thankful for its presence as she mused over the events of the morning.

 _Why had Principal Penhallow got so mad at me? It can't have been just because of that spat in the hallway. Kaelie must have called her parents. And they, in turn, must have called the principal, throwing their weight about as rich people are wont to do. And I could barely-_

Dit. Dit-dit. Thunk.

Clary glanced at her floor in surprise. A large marble had just come bouncing in.

 _What's going on? Kids playing a trick?_

She hauled herself out of bed and padded to the window. Looked down into the street below, which was dim despite the scattered streetlights.

A shiny motorcycle was propped up against a neighbour's gate. This was surprising, considering the fact that this particular neighbour was an eighty-six year old woman, and Clary did not know her to have any affinity with bikes. Then-

"Psst! Clary!"

She saw his hair before she saw the rest of him; bright, shining gold, without a flaw or imperfection.

"Can I come up?" he called, loud enough for her to hear, yet soft enough so that the neighbours wouldn't be woken.

"What?" Clary hissed. "I'm in my nightwear!"

"I know - it's rather fetching, that nightdress of yours. I hadn't pegged you as a Hello Kitty kind of girl."

"Well, I guess that shows how much you know me." said Clary, knowing full well she disliked Hello Kitty. It was just one of the problems of being petite - you never grew out of your old clothes.

Even in the dark, she could see him recoil. "I'm sorry," he replied, "I shouldn't have said that. I know I sound like an ass."

Clary bit her lip at his tone, remembering his lost puppy expression on the playing field. In what she hoped was a gentler tone, she said, "It's okay. That's forgotten. But why are you here, exactly?"

"To apologise for a lot of things, if my pride permits me."

"It had better - or you'll have had a wasted journey."

She saw the flicker of a grin pass across his face. "Alright. Here goes." He sighed, letting his breath escape in a slow whoosh.

"To paraphrase what you once said to me - don't worry, this isn't a dental exam. Out with it."

Jace's grin widened. Her looked at her face, outlined by her masses of curling red hair. Then, he said, "Clary, I'm sorry for being an ass. I've been an ass in so many ways. I've tried to win you, despite the fact I shouldn't have done that while I was still with Kaelie. I've made a terrible mistake in not breaking up with Kaelie before going after you - though, in my defence, I wanted _her_ to dump _me_ and spare herself the shame of getting dumped, because that's something she's always been afraid of. I've treated you rotten by kissing you without yout permission, and giving you your first kiss, which you ought to have had with someone you loved. I've made you feel terribly guilty, when I ought to have been the one bearing all the guilt. I..." He looked her in the eye, voice faltering. "I'm sorry."

For a long time, Clary was silent, mulling things over. He sounded so sincere, and even if the expression on his face had not screamed of his sincerity, she would have been inclined to believe him. _But what about my heart?_

If there was anything she was sure of, it was the fact that Jace Herondale was a heartbreaker. It may not have been his intention to achieve that, but this did not negate the fact that that was what he was.

"Alright." she said, finally. "I accept your apology. Now you can head on home and feel pleased with yourself for finally being a gentleman." There was something sharp in her voice that she scarcely bothered to disguise. She backed away from the window to close the curtains.

"Dammit Clary!" Jace whisper-yelled. "I'm not done."

She cocked a brow. "What? You've got more to confess to? News flash - I'm not a priest. I'm not going to absolve you of your sins."

"You already have." he replied, with fervour. "Just by accepting my apology. But that's not what I want to talk to you about. I want...to ask you out on a date?"

Gobsmacked, Clary blinked. "A...date? Jace - it's eleven thirty in the night. Besides, I'm in a nightie."

A wide smile spread across his face. "I'm giving you a chance to see I'm not as bad as you think I am. If you agree to slip out with me, I can promise you a night you won't forget, that will change your opinion of me." He held out his hands, palms up, as if willing her to climb down from her window and join him.

It wasn't a difficult climb - she'd managed it many times. _But I can't. On top of all this trouble with school, it'll kill Mom._

She opened her mouth to refuse him. No words came out. She closed it again.

His fingers twitched, as if unconsciously beckoning her forth.

She swallowed. "Give me two minutes. I need to get out of this dratted nightie."

A brilliant smile blossomed on Jace's face.

\--

Clary's hair whipped across her face like a million tiny lashes. She didn't care. She was zooming about town, at the dead of night, on Jace Herondale's motorbike.

It seemed to her that she had left her woes and inhibitions packed in a pretty box, stuffed in the darkest depths of her closet, a place where none but the most morose of dust mites might wander.

And it felt good.

 _He_ felt good. Sitting behind him, her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms around his waist, she marveled at the warmth radiating from his skin. He felt better than her sketchbook.

He even smelt better than the perfume of paint and pencil and paper that had been the key olfactory sensations of her life.

It was like venturing forth into a new world. A new world in which she was a spectator, to be guided down avenues of hidden pleasure she had not the imagination to dream up. In that moment, Clary felt blessed.

"Here we are." His breath steamed her cheek. "This is a club I love to frequent. But - and this might surprise you - I've never brought a single person here. This has always been _my_ haunt."

Clary's throat tightened, realising the gesture intended. "Oh, Jace. But...if this is your special place-"

"No." He wouldn't hear her words of protest. "I _wanted_ to bring you here. As a measure of trust." He gave her a crooked smile. "I'm trusting you not to break my heart." His voice caught a little on "heart", and he abruptly turned away.

Clary took hold of his chin and turned his face around to look at her. "I won't." And she kissed him.

It was sweet, slow, unhurried. Everything a kiss ought to be. Neither party had quite expected it - not even Clary, whose lips had been responsible for it. In that one instance, her brain had simply shut down.

Jace broke it off. He touched his forehead to hers. "Clary, I don't have any expectations from you. Please don't think I do." He kissed her, a swift, chaste pressing of his lips against hers. "All I want to do is give you a good time tonight. I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to, and I'm not hurrying you, either." His breath was hot against her lips.

She shivered. "I know."

He smiled. "Shall we, then?"

"Yes."

They got off his motorcyle and walked to the club's entrance, her hand in his as if they were truly a couple.

"Jace." The bouncer, a big, burly man with arms the size of Clary's torso grinned. "Well, well. You've found yourself a real girl. Fancy that."

Jace flushed. "We're not...we're friends..." He seemed to be protesting for her sake.

Clary squeezed his hand. She shot him a glance. _It's okay. Let it go._

The bouncer let them through the door, still chuckling.

"Gosh." Clary had willed herself to not be surprised as to what the inside of a packed club would look like, but she was. "It's like the movies."

Jace smiled crookedly at her, looking as if he were about to laugh. "It's a _club_ , Clary." he replied, good-naturedly. "One isn't so very different from another."

Clary nodded, somewhat absently. The steady thump-thump-thump of the music was doing strange things to her system. She wanted to head out onto the dance floor like those cool girls in movies who didn't give a damn as long as they were having fun. Except, she didn't. She was a little too self-conscious.

"Hmm?" Jace had been studying her face in profile, a half-smile playing at his mouth. "Going to bust out some moves, Dancing Queen?"

Clary flushed. "You must be joking. I'd trip over my feet. I don't dance."

"Okay." Jace released her hand. "We'll have to do something about that. Wait right here." He wandered off into the crowd, his head glinting under the strobing lights, sometimes blue, sometimes red, sometimes green.

Five minutes later, he returned, bearing drinks. "Here." He held a strange, purplish drink out to her.

She took it, albeit suspiciously. "What's in it?"

Jace laughed. "Nothing strong. It's basically grape juice, a bit of lavender and the teeniest bit of vodka. You can't get drunk on it."

"Oh." Clary took a tentative sip. The lavender was a bit overpowering, but it was an intriguing drink on the whole.

Jace took a sip from his own drink, a yellowish concoction smelling of pineapple. He saw her giving him a bit of a look and said, "I'm not trying to get you drunk, ok? You just need to loosen up a little and have fun."

"Okay." She could see the sense in that. _Release the last few bits of tension, Clary, and let yourself go. You're going to tread a new path now and find yourself a life. No more hiding behind sketchbooks and dark glances._

She drained her drink, somewhat sorry to see it all go.

"Whoa." Jace lay a warning hand on her arm. "That doesn't have much booze in it, but you still don't want to slug it down like that. It'll go to your head."

"It will?" Clary felt worried. "You said there wasn't enough alcohol in it to make me drunk!"

Jace finished his own drink and reached for her empty glass. "I know, but your tolerance is still pretty low. I hope I won't find you plastered by the time I get back." He winked, to show her he wasn't being serious.

Clary felt herself relax. There was a funny, warm feeling in her tummy, but on the whole she felt _fine_.

"Well?" Jace returned, empty-handed. He grinned. "Feel like joining the throng? Or would you rather sit it out a bit more?"

Clary's gaze drifted to the mass of writhing bodies sweating it out on the dance floor. The steady thump-thump-thump of the bass seemed to worm its way into the marrow of her bones. _I want to move._

The sudden thought was like a shock to her system. It was as if she was drunk on the ambience of the energetic club. She couldn't stand there - not when there was a sea of bodies _dancing._

"Let's go."

Jace raised a brow. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel that I'm pressuri-"

"You're not." Clary smiled at him. "I want to try new things." And as she said it, she knew it was true.

"Alright, then."

They stepped into the surge.

It carried them away easily, effortlessly. They were lost in the currents of the rolling crowd, carried hither and thither like coconuts bobbing along to the waves' will.

Many times during her youth Clary had wished to be _that_ _girl_ dancing with her boyfriend at a club like a mini-Shakira. Well, Jace wasn't her boyfriend and she wasn't Shakira, but she no longer felt that deep yearning to slip into _that girl's_ body and shed her own.

A dark girl with a chain of silver stars encircling her head turned to Clary and said, "Dayyum girl, you've got yourself a real tasty dish over there."

Not bothering to correct the other girl, Clary smiled and said, "I sure do."

If Jace heard her over the overwhelming current of music, he made no response. Instead, he continued to gyrate like a male dancer in one of those smoking ads for Calvin Klein briefs that Clary may or may not have watched on repeat for fifteen minutes.

Then, as if feeling her gaze on him, he turned his head to smile at her. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Funnily enough, I am."

They had to shout a little to be heard, but neither minded. They were just two molecules in a giant swarm.

Jace's expression didn't change, though his eyes brightened. "I'm glad you've had a chance to experience this."

 _So am I. It's one of the joys of being young. A feast I never expected to partake in. But you've given me a seat at the table, Jace._

Her heart seemed to warm to him even more than it did before. It was as if the warmth of her drink had curled into her chest and lit the hearth there.

If her heart was filled with fire, then Jace's eyes were like little suns set in the perfection of his face. The longer they rested on her face, the more they seemed to glow.

Finally, after a surge in the crowd pressed her body against his, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him again.

If she had been asked to say where all this affection came from, she'd have been hard-pressed to answer. It seemed to gush from some hidden part of her, surprising her with the depth of feeling her heart bore.

Their lips broke away. Jace's eyes were locked on hers; his eyes were dark, his pupils blown.

Roughly, he recaptured her lips. And she was no blushing maiden - she fought to mould her body to his as if they were one entity.

On and on they tussled; hands raking over bare flesh, lips bruising against each other, bodies sliding together in some ritualistic dance of passion.

When at last they broke apart, Jace's shirt was torn in several places and Clary's top and skirt had hardly fared any better.

"It's three a.m. Cinderella." he whispered into her ear, warm breath on her neck.

She shivered. "Must we leave?"

"We must." He smiled. "Unless you want your mother to blow up like an atomic bomb."

"Alright." Clary sighed. _I don't want to go. I want to stay here. Forever._

"Don't worry. We'll be back."

\--

 **Hey, you guys. This is just to say that I appreciate all PMs I've got, but if anyone's going to pop in with "ok u need to get a move on n update, this is lazy...etc etc" and behave like an ass, I'm just going to take this moment to say that I'm sorry that I have a life. Ok, hun?**

 **And in case you're wondering about the DRINK - yes, it does exist. It's an experiment one of my bartender friends dreamt up. It's a bit strange - an acquired taste. You can try it too, but there's more of a kick if you up the vodka content to 1/2. ;)**

 **Jace's was a piña colada - AKA one of my favourite drinks.**

 **Dear ClaceLover246: Yay, I was hoping someone would. Kaelie's not a terrible person, really, just a bit jealous and needy.**


	6. Chapter Six

**I am soooo sorry this took ages. My life has been driving me nuts, and finding a little bit of peace to pen this has been harder than finding a golden needle in a stash of copper needles. Soz.**

Chapter Six

When dawn, with its sparkling golden glow, set the world alight, Clary Fray was fast asleep. She did not see her face outlined in the rays of the early morning sun, but her mother, on her ritual early-morning hunt for dirty laundry, did.

Jocelyn paused by her daughter's bed, drinking in the sight of Clary, fast asleep, with an actual smile on her face. Too often she slumbered with the look of a weary grandmother upon her countenance.

Then, after a brief stroke of her daughter's hair, Jocelyn departed, carrying with her the new bundle of laundry she had discovered under Clary's bed.

*

"Morning, Clary."

It was a surprise to see Luke in the kitchen at ten past nine in the morning on a weekday. He was usually lost in the rhythms of his company, Lupus Comics.

Clary let out a start. "Luke? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"And aren't _you_ supposed to be at school?" He gave her a stern eye. "Here." He slid a plate of rapidly cooling pancakes over to her side of the table. "Your mother had to run to a craft supplies store for some canvas, but she said to make sure you had something to eat before lunch-time."

"Oh." Despite having had slept past her usual wake-up time, Clary still felt an aching tiredness in her limbs. She took a seat at the kitchen table and yawned widely.

"Had a late night?"

"Er...yes." For some reason, Clary felt as if she were walking on pins. "I went to bed late." _Let's hope he thinks I was drawing._

"Yes," Luke replied, drily, "three thirty a.m. _is_ rather an odd time to be heading to bed."

Clary choked on a piece of pancake. After her coughing fit subsided, she said, "You _know_? Does _Mum_ know?"

Luke held his hands up for silence. "No, Jocelyn does not know that you were out last night. I don't plan on telling her, either, because, as a teenager, you're entitled to your fair share of freedom. In fact, I wouldn't have known you'd snuck out if I hadn't been going through some work when you snuck in, so I must say that you're quite a blessing in comparison to some other teenagers I could name." He laughed. "You at least try to preserve some sense of normalcy and decency at home. And I respect that."

"Mmf." said Clary. She swallowed her mouthful of pancake. "I _don't_ sneak out, Luke. Yesterday was...last night was the first time I ever..."

"Clary, Clary." Luke took a seat opposite her. "Clary, it's _perfectly okay_ for you to want to adopt a rebellious attitude. Fighting in school, sneaking out at night - this is all part of growing up. Currently, you're handling the whole process better than most, and for that your mother and I are grateful."

"Wait." Clary frowned. "You're not mad at me?"

Luke sighed. "Why would I be mad at you? You've been perfectly frank with me. I only hope you'll continue being so." He smiled, blue eyes crinkling behind the frames of his glasses. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must run. The office is expecting me by ten and I've a couple of things to do before then."

"Oh, ok." Clary felt a warm, mushy sensation in her chest. If her mother had always been strict, her stepfather had always been ten times as strict. It gave her a sense of pride to see that she was being trusted - that her family had faith in her being a good kid.

 _Well_... Her face heated up as she remembered Jace's hand sliding up her torso. _Well, a halfway decent kid, I guess._

Luke had just about driven out of the driveway when her phone, in the back pocket of her sweatpants, buzzed.

 _It's probably Simon. A school update. Or, I should say, a homework update._

But it wasn't Simon. It was a text from an unknown number.

Clary clicked on it.

 ** _Gud morning, pretty thing! Hope u lyk me enuf 2 want 2 hang out_** **_now._**

"Jace." she muttered, aloud. Somewhere in her throat, her heart began to throb.

She texted, **_Don't you have school?_**

And waited, her phone sliding through her sweaty fingers to hit the table with a solid _thunk_.

 ** _Once a bunker always a bunker. Dont change da subject. ;)_**

For some unfathomable reason, Clary began to grin widely. _I hope no one walks into the kitchen right now. I probably look as if I've just killed someone._

Schooling her face into a less crazily-murderous expression, she typed back, **_So, you want to hang out?_**

Re-reading it, she hoped it gave off a certain flirtatious, albeit coy, quality that he might find intriguing.

 _Bzz-bzz._ **_Yeah thats what i said, Fray. I wasnt aware of da fact u had a reading disability :p_**

Clary flushed. Clearly, she had much to learn about the art of flirtation. A little voice in her head spoke up, _Why do you want to be a flirt? Snap out of it, Clary - this isn't you._

But flirting was an exciting prospect, novice though she was.

She typed, **Reading disability? Hmm...maybe you could come over and set me straight.**

The minute her finger pressed 'send', a wave of self-consciousness flooded her system. _God, did I really send that innuendo-laced message? He'll think...he'll think..._

Clearly, he wasn't thinking about what she assumed he was. His reply read, **_Brilliant! Was wondering if u'd lyk 2 hang @ magnus'? W/ a fun crowd including urs truly._**

She let out a sigh of relief. Though she'd been free the previous night, come morn time she was wary. It was sweet of him not to push her.

 ** _I'd love to!_** she typed, meaning every syllable of it.

 ** _Gr8. Wil pick u up in 5._**

For a minute or two, Clary simply sat there, grinning like a fool. A fool's fool.

Then reality began to dawn on her. _Shit! Mum'll be home soon with her canvas._

Stumbling about in her over-large sweatpants (no one said home wear had to be anything but comfortable), she endeavoured to leave a note for her mother.

 **Dear Mum,**

 **Off to Forever Comix to pick up some Hetalia anime.**

 **Clary.**

 _Ok, now Mum won't freak when she comes back and sees I'm gone._

Then, it was a quick dash up the stairs to change out of her horrid home wear.

 _I need to channel some effortless, cool vibes. Please, wardrobe, don't fail me._

Briefly, her thoughts flicked to Isabelle Lightwood. That girl was _always_ effortlessly cool.

 _But she has long legs and a whippet-thin waistline to swoop to her aid in the event she makes a bum fashion choice, and I don't. I could try looking cool, but I know I'll probably end up looking like a kid._

Clary huffed, swishing her clothes this way and that on their hangers.

Her phone pinged. She had another message.

"Shit, don't be here, don't be here..."

 ** _Hey Fray u rdy??_**

"Well, dammit." In agitation, Clary flung some of her clothes across her bed. "Couldn't the stupid git have got stuck in traffic? For like a couple of minutes?"

When she had finally selected an outfit that bordered on chic (though still remaining a good many metres off), Jace had been waiting a good ten minutes.

 _When did I get so **vain**? I never used to give a damn about what I wore._

Make-up was...nothing. Nada. Zilch. Clary and make-up did not mix.

 _God, I'm such a dork_ , she fumed, rushing down the stairs.

But the look on Jace's face when she opened the door and stepped out to greet him sent those thoughts flying out of her head faster than a piece of paper being blasted away by a jet engine.

"Clary. Wow."

His expression made her want to blush. _Hard._ And hide her face in her hands.

Instead, she said, "You don't look too shabby yourself."

That was, perhaps, the understatement of the year. Jace and 'shabby' were as far apart as the two poles. He looked like James Bond. No - he looked as if he could make James Bond jealous.

He beamed at her. Then his gaze dropped to the ground. "Okay, I think we'd better go. I might say something stupid and sappy, and...I don't think you'd appreciate me burdening you with...things like that just now."

"Right." For some reason Clary wanted to break into a skip.

"My car's right here." He nodded at a buttercup yellow car parked by the curb.

Clary didn't know what it was, but it looked expensive. "You have a car?" She was impressed. _Don't be stupid, Clary, **of course** he must be loaded. Everyone in the Lightwood clique is._

"Yeah, I do. A Porsche." He made a sheepish little shrug.

"Ah." The name meant nothing to Clary.

"Here." He opened her door for her.

She got in, cheeks burning. _I feel like a Bond girl._ It wasn't a bad feeling. It just made her feel strange. As if she had slipped out of her skin and taken up someone else's.

"You liked Magnus, didn't you?" Jace said, as they drove away.

Clary nodded. "He's...different, I guess."

"He liked you."

"Oh." Her face felt hot again. "You guys talked about me?" Though she was only looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn his cheekbones reddened.

"Well, yes." His fingers drummed on the wheel as they stopped at the lights. "He - he said I could do better than...than...well, he said that any guy that got you would have to work hard to deserve you."

Now Clary _really_ felt like blushing. "What? Why? I'm a total geek. I know more about Star Wars than I do about fashion."

"And how is that a bad thing?" Jace's eyes flashed. "Would you rather be _just like every other girl_? Cause that's _not_ what drew me to you, Clary."

"Oh." She was fighting a losing battle with her face. It was destined to remain brick red.

" _Oh_ indeed." Jace snorted. "You've got to stop dragging yourself down. I know I've got no real right to tell you that because we're not...I know you have no reason to listen to me, but I'm going to tell you this all the same. You're _the be_ _st_ you can be, Clary. Don't change. Not for me, not for your parents, not for _anybody_. You're great the way you are, and I..." he coloured, "I have said too much."

Something pricked Clary in the chest. It was unfathomable, the reason why Jace Herondale - perfect Jace Herondale - would want to show _her_ what was beneath his confident façade.

"No." she replied. "I don't think you've said too much. You've just made me feel good about myself, geeky nature and all. I don't think you should feel ashamed that you've spoken your mind."

He nodded, slowly, cheekbones still a bit red.

For a while, they drove in silence. The air around them was so thick with emotion that it seemed too Herculean a task to cut through it. Then,

"Here we are."

Jace drove up to a large, stately house, flanked by towering palms bowing this way and that to the will of the wind.

"Gosh." Clary felt her brows recede to her hairline. "Someone actually _lives_ here?"

"Yeah." Jace grinned at her expression. "Honestly, Clary, don't you _know_ who Magnus' dad is?"

"Ummm...no." She felt utterly at sea.

"Asmodeus? You know, the singer from _The Demons_?" Jace gestured wildly. "They were a pretty famous group, back in the day. A bit like the Stones, Zeppelin...all those guys."

Clary shook her head slowly. "You've lost me. I don't know who any of those guys are."

"Ok." He sighed. "Let's just say that if you were in a top touring band in the seventies and you've lived in tax exile for decades, you can buy several houses like that." He flipped the door lock and the doors unlocked. "Now let's go hang with Magnus."

To say that the house was even more perfect within as it was without might have sounded like an exaggeration.

 _But, **boy** , is this not an exaggeration._

The furnishings were so mind-blowingly sumptuous, they made the Lightwoods' place look like a hovel.

"Welcome, welcome." Magnus bustled towards them. He wore a fussy white shirt, white pants tucked into knee-high boots and a long, scarlet jacket.

Clary couldn't help herself. "Are you having a reenactment of the Revolutionary War?"

Magnus gave her a look. "Don't be insulting, cupcake. I'm wearing one of my own designs."

"Stolen from the 1700s?"

"Cla _ry_." Jace said, admonishingly.

Magnus tapped his shoulder with a glittering hand. "You shut your pie-hole. It's so nice to hear an actual girl _speak_. It's as if all they do these days is diet and peer at themselves in front of the mirror." He shuddered. "No wonder I've lost interest in the female sex."

"You lost interest in the female sex a long time ago." Jace replied, darkly. "About the same time as you first met Alec."

"That cutie patootie? It's a shame you don't bring him with you when you come to visit."

Jace looked faintly disgusted. "He's my adoptive brother, Magnus. Paws off."

"Why?" Magnus looked genuinely confused. "You aren't planning on having a threesome with him and Red here, are you?"

Jace choked.

"Oh, guess not." Magnus looked smug. "So it isn't your business, is it?" He turned to Clary. "Shall we leave this idiot here to choke while I introduce you to the others at my oh-so-wonderful gathering?"

"Uh, ok." Clary felt an overwhelming urge to giggle.

"Right this way, cupcake."

He led her down a hallway with exquisite wall-hangings that made Clary's fingers itch for her watercolour pencils.

Sudden bursts of laughter seemed to echo off the walls and the high ceiling. There came an odd, harsh buzzing noise, like feedback from a guitar.

"Max, Si, Seb, Frat Boy and Spotty, say hello!"

The five guys in the room lifted their heads as Clary walked in. Two of them she knew - they were Matt and Eric, members of Simon's band - the others...

Her jaw dropped. "Simon? Is that you?"

Simon looked utterly different. For one thing, his glasses were gone. For another, he was actually wearing clothes that were halfway trendy, and maybe - _maybe_ \- he was wearing eyeliner.

"Clary?" He clutched at his guitar. "What're you doing here?"

"She's a guest." Magnus supplied, brightly. "Clary, meet The Shadowhunters. I've signed them onto my dad's label, AB Records. They're going to be the new big thing." He grinned widely. "Dad was blown away when he heard them play. _Blown away_."

 _So this is Simon's new band_. Clary was stunned. _Simon has a recording contract now. Why didn't he tell me? We could have celebrated together - this is **big** news._

Jace coughed, emphatically. "Clary, this is Max, my little brother."

"Hi." Max was a skinny guy of medium height with hair a nondescript shade of brown. If Jace hadn't pointed him out, Clary might have missed him entirely.

The same could not be said, however, for the guy beside him. Tall, blond, with a smile like the blade of a knife, he made her heart just about stutter.

"Hi." The guy's smile widened. "I'm Sebastian Verlac. It's nice to meet you, Clary."

Now Clary's heart _definitely_ did a somersault. "Er...hi." She felt woolly-headed.

"Clary." Her name seemed to roll off his tongue effortlessly. "Is that short for something?"

"Clarissa."

His dark eyes glittered. "Beautiful."

Jace, watching the proceedings with a look of distaste on his face, said, "So, are you working on an album, Simon?"

"Oh, sure, dude. We've already got a few rough mixes."

The sight of Jace and Simon on such friendly terms shocked Clary out of her openmouthed devotee pose.

Just then, the bell rang and Magnus scurried off to answer it.

"You two...are friends?"

Simon made a face. "I wouldn't say we're friends, exactly. Jace here played piano for us once, but, other than that, he could be an axe murderor for all I know."

Jace made an effusive bow. "Just call me amazing and be done with it."

"I'll pass." Simon continued to frown. "What exactly are you doing with him, Clary?"

Clary squirmed, suddenly nervous. "We're, uh, hanging out." Her morning was starting to look a lot less magical now.

"Hello again, my cupcakes!" Magnus reappeared. "I bring two more to our little soirée!"

"It's not an evening party, Bane!" came a girl's husky voice.

 _Oh shit._ Clary's morning just got a whole lot worse.

Isabelle Lightwood stepped into the room, Alec in tow. Her eyes zeroed in on Clary; she frowned. Apparently, she had not forgiven Clary for turning her best friend into a blubbering mess.

 _This is going to be a lo-o-ong morning._

\--

 **Hi guys! The next chappie will feature the drama that ensues. Dun dun DUN!**

 **Forever Comix is kinda like Forever 21 (love their stuff!!) x Comic Books (because, never having been to America, I don't know your comic book stores XD). And Hetalia because...well, Hetalia!**

 **Jace's car, in case you're wondering, is a Porsche 718 Boxster. It was a tossup between this, a Camaro and a Mustung. An ideal car for a high school boy with rich parents (NOT as great as the 911, though, because he is technically still a kid). This isn't mentioned cause it's Clary's POV and she (unlike me) is not a car fanatic and would not notice. I just included this in case you were interested. :)**

 **Da, oesteffel. I suppose you could say J and K's friendship is over. With K being what she is, I doubt she would be satisfied by just being J's friend.**

 **Thankies to all you guys who reviewed!** **You deserve a ride in Jace's Porsche!**


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